ks itself with verdure and brings forth new life,
it receives the dead. Let no one dare come to me again and say that he
understands the world and life!

"Where is the professor?"

My wife was the only one who could quiet Annette, and she said, "If I
could only go with you!"

"You will be with me in spirit, I am sure," replied Annette.

She extended her hand to my wife, saying, "I can assure you of this: I
will so conduct myself, that you could at any moment say to me, 'This
is right.'--I have been wild and wayward; I am so no longer; hereafter,
I will be strong and gentle."

The carriage drove up and we accompanied Annette down the hill as far
as the saw-mill.

There was a rainbow over our heads; it reached from our mountains to
the Vosges.

Annette held a handkerchief to her eyes. My wife and Bertha were
walking on either side of her.

The only time I heard her speak was when she said to Bertha:

"Your husband has lost his best comrade. The Major will live; there
shall yet be some happy ones on earth. I shall write you from the
camp."

Rothfuss was ploughing the potato field. He was walking with his back
towards us.

Annette called to him. He came out into the road and inquired what was
the matter.

"My husband is dead. I am going to bring him and lay him in the earth
which you are now ploughing," said Annette in a firm voice.

Rothfuss extended his hand to her. He seemed unable to utter a word,
and was excitedly swinging his cap about with his left hand.

At last, in a loud voice, and stopping after every word, he exclaimed:

"I would--rather--not--be--King--or Emperor--than have--that--rest--on
me."

He returned to the field and continued his work.

When we reached the valley, Annette said, "I shall not say 'good by;' I
shall need all my strength for the other sad affair."

She quickly stepped into the carriage; her brother, Rontheim, and the
daughter of the latter following her.

The carriage rolled away.

On our way back to the house, my wife was several times obliged to sit
down by the roadside. The sad events of this day had deeply affected
her.

We were seated under an apple-tree, when my wife, taking me by the
hand, said, "Yes, Henry, how full of blossoms that tree once was; but
May-bugs and caterpillars and frost and hail have destroyed it. And
thus it is with him, too."

She was not as demonstrative as I was; she could bear her sorrow
silently; but the thought of Ernst did not